The radio crackled with reports of runaway cranes, large enough to crush a person should one fall. Then again, the radio was set to the ISC chat frequency, so I took everything I heard with a large grain of salt.
Still, the speaker purported to be none other than Miss Ilsa Munro, Duchess Loch Avie herself, sounding the alarm about the truant creature.
My curiosity piqued, I aimed the Hangover One in the direction of Loch Avie to endeavor to see for myself.
Upon reaching that once-green oasis, I was astounded at the changes that had been wrought. Gone was the ancient manor house, many of the trees, and even the gentle hills themselves. In their place was a paradigm of production efficiency: layer upon layer of iron girders, supporting Miss Munro's entire air force of flying vehicles.
One of the killer cranes - this one still on the job, apparently - can be seen in the daguerrotype below, at center.